


Through the Senses.

by JavisTG



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Peeta's POV, Post-Mockingjay, Senses, Touch, growing back together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JavisTG/pseuds/JavisTG
Summary: Canon compliant. Post Mockigjay. Katniss and Peeta grow back together one sense at a time.





	1. Touch

Guided by a deep-rooted impulse he couldn’t always control, Peeta longed to touch her.

 

From the moment he had first seen her —standing by her front door, unwashed, unkempt, and scowling under the pale morning sun— Peeta had wanted to rush to her side.

 

His hands had itched to touch her cheek, to brush the matted hair away from her face, to let her know she’d be OK.

 

But it was too soon.

 

A dark cloud of confusion and pain still hung heavily between them. So, Peeta tightened his grip on the shovel he had brought to plant the primroses and watched as Katniss stormed away.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, Peeta walked into Katniss’s house and found her sitting by the fire. Her clothes were clean. Her neatly braided hair smelled of rosemary and wildflowers, but her eyes seemed lost —trapped in some distant memory of happier days gone by.

 

Resisting the urge to reach out and squeeze her arm, Peeta knelt by her side. Gently, he placed a small basket of warm cheese buns on her lap.

 

As the mouthwatering smell of cheese and spices filled the room, Katniss looked down. Her eager fingers wrapped around the basket, holding it tightly against her stomach. “You made these?”

 

Peeta nodded. “You said they were your favorite. Real?”

 

“Real.” Tilting the basket in his direction, she pointed to the green herbs he had sprinkled on top. “You always use fresh chives. I really like that.”

 

Peeta turned to the flames. As much as he hated the sight of Katniss staring into them, he understood her need. His family and his childhood home had been buried under a blast. Just like Prim, they had been swallowed up by tongues of fire. Sometimes, if he looked closely enough, he could still see their faces and picture their smiles in the dancing blaze.

 

With a tired sigh, Peeta stood up and turned towards the kitchen. “I think Sae made soup.”

 

Behind him, the rocking chair creaked. The sound of soft footsteps followed.

 

Peeta looked over his shoulder and saw Katniss carrying the cheese buns to the table, hugging the basket to her chest like it was some priceless treasure.

 

Later, as Katniss happily polished off the first batch of cheese buns he had baked in months, Peeta wondered if cooking for her was, somehow, the same as touching her. 

 

* * *

 

 

Peeta looked up to the dark thundering clouds and groaned. It had been raining all morning, and he was soaked through.

 

Tired and cranky, he picked up the pace, wrapping his arms around himself to try to warm up. It was no use. The cold had seeped into his bones, and he couldn’t stop shivering.

 

By the time he reached his front door, his teeth were chattering.

 

Just as he was about to turn the doorknob, the door swung open.

 

Katniss stood on the threshold holding the door open. Her eyes reflected the storm in the sky. “Where were you?”

 

“In town. I was helping out.” A gust of cold wind slipped under Peeta’s wet clothes sending a chill down his spine. Surprise gave way to annoyance. “How did you get in?”

 

“I have a set of keys. Remember?”

 

He was about to shake his head no when a distant memory flashed into his mind. “I gave them to your mom.”

 

“Real. When we first moved here.” Katniss moved away from the door and gestured for him to go in. “She gave you ours too. Said it was for emergencies.”

 

Peeta stepped into the foyer and began unbuttoning his coat. He was eager to get out of his wet clothes, but it was slow-going. His fingers were stiff and cold. “So, what’s the emergency?”

 

“I didn’t know where you were.”

 

Peeta stilled. “What?”

 

“It’s raining.” For the first time since she’d opened the door, Peeta noticed the fear in Katniss’s voice. “I heard Thom and the others when they came back from town, but you weren’t in the cart with them.”

 

Peeta shrugged off his coat and hung it on the rack. “I told them I wanted to walk back.”

 

“In this rain?” She pointed out to the window and the fat drops hitting the glass.

 

Peeta hung his head. He was tired, hungry, cold, and confused. He couldn’t remember the last time Katniss had been this upset, and he didn’t know where the conversation was going. Still, he tried his best to explain. “It wasn’t raining that hard. It got worse once they left.”

 

Katniss stepped closer, boxing him in against the wall. Her eyes were as dark and wet as the gray clouds outside. “You were gone for hours. I was worried.”

 

Peeta’s fingers tingled. Tiny droplets, left behind by runaway tears, clung to Katniss’s eyelashes. He desperately wanted to brush them away.

 

Trying to distract himself, he pulled off his wet scarf and dropped it on the floor. “Well, I’m here now.” Looking down at his clothes, he noticed that his sweater was soaked through. “I’m a bit wet but, other than that, I’m fine.”

 

Katniss shook her head. “No, you’re not.” Before he could protest, she reached out and touched his cheek.

 

Peeta sighed, slowly closing his eyes as the world around him turned hazy and soft. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned into Katniss’s touch --losing himself in the warmth and comfort he had missed so much. 

 

As his breathing slowed down, the loud pitter-patter of the rain on the roof turned into a soothing melody.

 

Encouraged by his reaction, Katniss stepped even closer to him. Using her free hand, she gingerly ran her fingers through his wet hair, gently massaging his scalp. Exhausted, Peeta shuddered under her touch.

 

“You’re wet and cold, and you’re probably hungry. Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

 

Peeta shook his head. His eyes, bright and blue like a summer sky, settled on hers. “You don’t have to--,”

 

The soft pressure of her finger over his lips silenced him. “I know I don’t _have_ to, but I want to. Is that OK?”

 

Peeta covered Katniss’s hand with one of his own. Lacing their fingers together, he brought them down to rest on his chest, right over his racing heart. “Yeah. It’s OK.”

 

* * *

 

 

Drifting between sleep and consciousness, Peeta stretched. His lazy hand searched beneath the blankets until his fingers found what they were looking for.

 

He smiled. Even after all those years, it still amazed him to find Katniss’s small body lying next to him in bed. Her presence let him know she was safe. Her warm embrace told him he was loved.

 

With a slow, practiced motion, he ran his fingertips up Katniss’s spine; relishing the feel of her bare back arching as he mapped her scars all the way up to the base of her neck.

 

Awakened by his touch, Katniss hummed. Her soft voice was thick with sleep. “Is it morning yet?”

 

Peeta’s calloused fingers reached her shoulder. “Mm-hmm. Time to get up.”

 

Katniss turned to face him. Sluggishly, she closed the distance between them, draping an arm over his waist and pressing her forehead to his chest. “Five more minutes?”

 

Peeta wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to his body and feeling every inch of her skin pressed against his. A warm thrill spread through him, reaching every part of his being and filling him with joy.

 

Content, and slightly aroused, he kissed the top of her head. “We can make it ten.”

 

Katniss yawned. Her body was already going limp with sleep when she murmured, “OK.”

 

Lulled by Katniss’s even breathing, Peeta relaxed once more.

 

As the sun rose in the sky bringing the slumbering world back to life, the two victors held on to each other.  In the safety of their tangled arms and intertwined legs, two survivors found the strength they needed to face a new day.  


	2. Sound

Night after night, alone in his quiet hospital room, Peeta tried to piece his shattered memories back together.

 

He was still too confused to recognize what was real from what wasn’t, but it was becoming easier to identify the pattern. The artificially implanted memories were unnaturally vivid and shiny, the sounds associated with them full of static.

 

His real memories were dull by comparison, but the melodies they carried were as sharp and clear as the chime of a silver bell. 

 

Following Dr. Aurelius’s advice, he turned his attention to the sound of his breathing and the slow movement of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled. As his mind settled down, a memory from his first Game came into focus.

 

He was in the cave, lying on the ground with his back against the wall. Katniss was huddled next to him in the sleeping bag. Even all those months later, Peeta still remembered what it had felt like to have the weight of her small body leaning against him as they waited for night to fall.

 

Outside, a storm raged on. Small droplets ran along the rocky walls of their shelter, dripping onto shallow puddles in a rhythmic, melodious pattern.

 

Katniss’s soft voice broke the quiet. “Peeta, when did forever start?”

 

He turned to look at her. The curiosity sparkling in her gray eyes gave him the courage he needed to open up. “Oh, let’s see. I guess the first day of school. We were five…”

 

Back in his hospital room, a wave of sorrow hit him. Peeta couldn’t recall the exact words he had said that night, but he knew he had talked about their parents –his father’s broken heart; her father’s voice.

 

He vaguely remembered worrying about his mother’s reaction to his televised confession. Even now, months after her death, the thought of her angry, shrill voice still made him flinch.

 

Peeta shook his head to put his mother out of his thoughts. Even the worse memories he had of her were stable and static-free. As painful as they were, he was sure they were real.

 

Pushing his discomfort away, Peeta’s mind traveled back to the cave.

 

“The teacher stood you up on a stool during music assembly and had you sing the valley song for us." Peeta smiled, remembering the cadence of Katniss's delicate voice and the way it had wrapped around his heart. "I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent.”

 

“Oh, please,” Katniss said, laughing.

 

 “No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew –just like your mother―I was a goner.”

 

Katniss pulled away from him ―eyes wide, lips parted. She looked like she was about to say something and, for a split-second, Peeta hoped she’d sing. But no melody came from her lips. Instead, her cheeks reddened, and she looked away.

 

* * *

 

 

“Got a present for you,” Haymitch announced one afternoon.

 

Peeta looked up from his sketchbook. His eyes were immediately drawn to the thin box in his mentor’s hands. “A present?”

 

Haymitch set the box on the table and pushed it in Peeta’s direction. “Dr. A told me to bring it by.”

 

Setting his sketchbook and pencil aside, Peeta reached for the box. It was lighter than he’d anticipated. He turned it over in his hands. “What is it?”

 

“A video.”

 

Peeta’s fingers tingled in anticipation as he opened the cardboard flaps to reveal a flat disc labeled with the initials ‘K. E.’ “Dr. A wants me to see this?”

 

With a tired grunt, Haymitch slumped onto a nearby chair. “He said he wanted you to hear it.”

 

“Hear it?”

 

Haymitch nodded. A smug smile tugged at his lips. “The girl’s singing.”

 

Peeta tightened his hold on the box. He knew he sounded stupid parroting his mentor’s words, but he couldn’t stop himself from repeating, “Singing?”

 

“Yeah, ballads, love songs, mountain airs. She started a couple of days ago and hasn’t stopped.”

 

The new development brought a smile to Peeta’s lips.

 

Over the weeks, Dr. Aurelius had shown him several shots of Katniss in her room. The doctor said it was part of his treatment. He wanted Peeta to worry about getting better –about untangling his thoughts and restoring his memories―not about Katniss’s wellbeing.

 

The grainy images had confirmed his district partner was alive, but they had also shown her pain, her state of neglect, her sorrow. The silence emanating from them had been as deafening as the blasts of the bombs raining over the City Circle.

 

Peeta walked over to the TV on the far side of the room. With trembling fingers, he slid the disc into a slot on the bottom of the screen and turned it on. In the seconds it took for the image to appear on the screen, his foolish heart picked up its pace.

 

In the video, Katniss sat by the edge of the bed with her eyes closed. Her lips barely moved, but her sweet voice quickly spread through the sterile hospital room filling it with the notes of a wistful ballad Peeta had never heard before.

 

“Try another city, baby

Another town

Wherever I have gone

Wherever I've been and gone

Wherever I have gone

The blues come following down.”

 

Tears welled in Peeta’s eyes. Even beneath the layers of pain and sorrow, Katniss’s voice was hauntingly beautiful.

 

When the song finished, Katniss opened her eyes again. The bright silver gaze Peeta remembered had turned into dark gunmetal under the weight of her heartbreak.

 

Overcome with emotion, Peeta pressed his forehead to the TV screen and wished he could reach out and touch her. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and tell her he was there for her, and that --although the world seemed bleak-- things would be good again.

 

Wiping his tears away, Peeta turned to Haymitch. “When are they releasing her?”

 

“By the end of the week. The jury is convening tomorrow to read the verdict.”

 

“Are you going back with her?”

 

“Yeah.” Haymitch glanced out the open window. “I’m her guardian now. I’m supposed to look after her now that her mother’s moved to District 4.”

 

 _Guardian_. Peeta scoffed at the thought. How was Haymitch going to take care of Katniss when he could barely take care of himself?

 

With a shake of his head, Peeta turned to the sketch he had abandoned on the table ―a landscape of the Capitol blanketed in snow. Maybe, if he worked hard enough, he’d be able to greet spring in District 12.

 

Looking back at his mentor, Peeta promised, “I’ll go back as soon as I can.”

 

* * *

 

 

With a tired huff, Peeta climbed the steps to Katniss’s back door.

 

It had been a long day. Peeta had been on his feet since early morning cleaning and planning. The population of District 12 was quickly growing, and he wanted to make sure that the small bakery he was setting up on the ground floor of his home had enough supplies to provide for all the newcomers.

 

He was about to knock when a bloodcurdling scream pierced the cold spring air.

 

A chill ran down Peeta’s spine. Even distorted by terror, he would have recognized that voice anywhere.

 

Forgetting about the rules of etiquette, Peeta pushed the kitchen door open and rushed into the house. He had almost reached the staircase when he heard another scream ―his name this time.

 

His earlier exhaustion forgotten, Peeta took the steps two at a time and ran to Katniss’s bedroom. He found her in bed, kicking and thrashing as she desperately yelled at him to run.

 

Trying hard to keep his voice from shaking, Peeta leaned in and ―pressing his cheek to Katniss’s― whispered, “It’s ok, Katniss, it’s ok. Wake up. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream, I’m alright.”

 

Katniss’s eyes snapped open. Her small hand latched onto Peeta’s shirt keeping him in place. As her breathing evened out, she released her hold on him. Her eyes focused on his worried face. “You’re ok?”

 

Peeta nodded. “You?”

 

“Yeah.” As the fog of sleep lifted, awareness kicked in. Embarrassed by her apparent inability to spend an afternoon without causing some sort of scene, Katniss looked away. “I’m sorry. I was just taking a nap. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

 

 “Don’t apologize.” Peeta reached for the end of her messy braid and began twisting it between his fingers. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

 

A long-lost memory flitted back into Katniss’s mind. Holding back the tears threatening to choke her, she asked, “You’re still trying to protect me. Real?”

 

Peeta’s eyes lit up. Even in his darkest times, he had instinctively known the answer to that question. “Real. Cause that’s what we do, right? We protect each other.”

 

A small smile turned Katniss’s lips. “Right.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The sun had already set behind the treetops of District 12 when the lovers pulled away.

 

After months of dancing around each other, –exchanging shy smiles, and stealing sweet kisses―the two victors had finally let go of their fears and given in to their desires.

 

Whispered words and delicious moans guided their hands as they explored each other’s bodies sealing their union with passionate promises of love and resilience.

 

Breathless and sated, Peeta pulled Katniss back into his arms. After pressing a soft kiss to her temple, he asked, “You love me. Real or not real?”

 

Katniss smiled. Pushing him away so she could look into his eyes, she whispered, “Real.”

 

The small world was like a triumphant symphony to Peeta's ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wondering what’s that song Katniss sings? It's "The Blues Run the Game". I used the version by Jackson C Frank. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed :)


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